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“I would kill for some pork dumplings right now, from that place over by Chinatown.” Harley said in a slightly muffled voice, chin resting between the pages of his AP calculus textbook.
Beside him, Peter snorted. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that one, Harls.”
Stifling a yawn, Harley picked his head up to stare at Peter. “Shu Jiao Fu Zhou, in the Lower East Side. Best pork and chive dumplings in the city, hands down.”
Peter internally cringed at Harley’s butchered pronunciation but was inclined to agree. However, Harley had only been living in the city for five months after moving from Tennessee to New York in June. Harley had transferred to Midtown Tech for his senior year (and Peter’s junior) so he could work as a full-time, paid intern in Stark Industry’s Research & Development Division post-graduation.
Peter turned towards Harley, a serious expression on his face. “Look, you’ve only been in the city for a few months, you don’t get to have an opinion on this.”
Harley rested his head on his textbook again, closing his eyes. “We could just…stop studying and go. I already know I’m gonna ace this test anyway. And this way, we can make it before close,” he looked at his watch, “in thirty minutes. Shit, scratch that idea.”
Harley sighed dejectedly and sat up straight to rest his back against the couch. He readjusted his glasses and picked up his pencil, intent on doing more practice problems. Looking at Harley, Peter got an idea. Peter Parker and Harley Keener couldn’t make it to Shu Jiao Fu Zhou’s in time, but someone else could. He placed his AP biology textbook to the side of the coffee table and grabbed his backpack, smile forming on his face as he stood up.
“Wait, are you going to bed already?” Harley asked, incredulous. “It’s only 9 o’clock!”
“Do you want dumplings or not?” Peter countered, already taking long strides to the front door of the apartment. He grabbed his keys from the ceramic dish by the door.
“You’re not gonna make it, Parker.” Harley said, voice teasing but eyes questioning.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it Keener, I know a shortcut.” Peter shot Harley a sly smile before closing the door behind him.
No one had to know that Peter changed into his Spider-Man suit in the empty hallway of the apartment complex, purely because he didn’t think his impulsive plan through.
Exactly fifteen minutes after Peter stepped out the front door, he was back with a whirlwind of energy and a container full of dumplings. Harley’s jaw almost dropped to the floor upon seeing him with a to-go bag from Shu Jiao Fu Zhou’s.
“How….” Harley’s astounded gaze flickered between Peter and the face of his watch multiple times. “But…we’re all the way in Queens.”
“Let me have my secrets.” Peter said teasingly, aiming for nonchalant as Harley started clearing the coffee table. Peter set the dumplings down and headed towards his room to take off the suit hidden beneath his clothes, absentmindedly depositing the apartment keys as he passed by.
“Did you fly there or something?” Harley asked as soon as Peter was back in view. Peter sighed, knowing the brunette was never going to let this go. He plopped down on the living room floor next to Harley, bumping his elbow against the older boy’s.
“Shut up and eat your dumplings.” Peter’s tone was light, but internally his heart was racing. Harley didn’t know Peter and Spider-Man were one in the same. Did he overdo it this time?
Harley didn’t have a good retort since his mouth was stuffed with dumplings.
--
A week later, Peter found himself once again swinging through New York City after hours. This time, Harley wanted dessert. But no, not just any dessert - Harley wanted egg waffle sundaes from Eggloo in Chinatown. Asian food was a rarity in Rose Hill so Peter understood the primal need to eat as much as physically possible to make up for lost time, but sheesh. At this rate Harley was going to put all of Chinatown out of business.
By the time Peter touched down on the sidewalk it was ten till close so Eggloo was almost empty. A win in Peter’s books since the teen was in and out with minimal hassle. Two egg waffle sundaes later a fully suited up Spider-Man stood in the alley behind the building. He wondered how he could balance both desserts on his way back to the Tower (and hoped no civilians needed him in this state). Peter didn’t want to leave Harley alone in the lab for too long, so once the sundaes were secured he wasted no time webbing onto the nearest building to start the journey home.
The two were working on upgrading Spider-Man’s web shooters. Peter, or rather, Spider-Man, wanted a more minimal design (plus wrist flexibility) but for the shooters to hold the same amount of web-fluid. They were also celebrating the end of their 90-day lab supervision period that Tony insisted on (“Kid, if I let you two run rampant in here, you’re gonna blow something up and I’m not explaining that to May"). It annoyed Peter the first few months, having a chaperone in the lab when he never did before, but he figured he ought to be grateful that Tony brought Harley to New York in the first place.
Peter smiled behind the mask as he shot another string of webbing. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Harley was dusted in the Snap but his sister, Abi, wasn’t, making her now a year older than her brother. As Harley started his senior year at Midtown Tech, Abi was starting her freshman year at CUNY. This ensured both Keener’s would be staying in New York for at least another four years - not that Peter was counting, because that’d be really weird.
“Okay Parker, HOW do you keep doing this?” Harley asked, once again incredulous as the lab doors opened to reveal a ruffled Peter Parker, egg waffle sundaes in hand.
“I already told you man, I know shortcuts all over the city.” Peter winked at Harley as he handed him his sundae. If he heard Harley’s heartbeat speed up at the gesture, no one else had to know. Peter dragged a rolling chair over to Harley and draped himself across it, knocking his left knee against the older boy’s right in the process.
After an obligatory eye roll from Harley both boys fell into a content silence while they ate, web shooters temporarily abandoned on the lab bench. “Do you think Tony’s gonna to be mad we spent our first night unsupervised eating in the lab and staying up past,” Harley made air quotes, “bedtime?” Harley’s voice came out muffled as he tried to speak and chew at the same time.
Peter scrunched up his nose. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”
Harley flashed Peter a thousand-watt smile in return, “Nope.”
--
Tony did find out in the end and, for the record, he wasn’t mad, more affectionately annoyed.
“Mr. Stark, you reinstalled ‘Baby Monitor Protocol’?” Peter asked, expression shocked. “How-how did you even get my suit?”
Tony didn’t look up from the parts he was welding back together. His voice was stifled from behind the mask but Peter still heard his reply (Spidey-hearing and all), “Like you told Harley,” Tony pitched his voice higher, a bad imitation of Peter’s, “let me have my secrets.”
Peter blushed, ducking his head and running a hand through his unruly hair as Tony stopped welding to roll his chair around and face Peter. Tony was shocked he had put the normally loquacious teen at a loss for words.
“You saw that?” Peter asked sheepishly.
“Heard it, kid. You hadn’t taken the suit off yet under your sweatshirt. Pepper and I had quite the entertainment last Thursday. And then again last night.” Tony’s mouth curled into a smug smile. “You gonna make a habit of suiting up every time Princess Buttercup gets hungry?”
Peter didn’t dignify that with a verbal response. Rather, his blush depended as he turned heel to exit the lab. Tony’s laughter rang out behind him over the sounds of Black Sabbath. “Mentor my ass,” Peter muttered under his breath.
If he doubled his strides to get to the elevators, no one had to know.
--
The third occurrence was Peter’s fault. Harley mentioned in passing during lunch that he hadn’t had a good Reuben since coming to New York. MJ rolled her eyes behind her book while Ned gave Peter a knowing smile. They both knew about Peter’s late night food runs for Harley.
“I know a place!” Peter shot up from his position at the picnic table and grabbed his backpack. It was a nice fall day so the quartet decided to eat lunch outside, school rules be damned.
“Wha-where are you going Parker?” Harley asked, puzzled at his sudden enthusiasm. “We only have thirty minutes left in lunch. Where could you possibly go?”
Peter turned around and winked at Harley, never breaking stride. He was pleased to hear Harley’s heart rate increase at the gesture.
“You had to go and say something, didn’t you?” MJ asked as she fixed her gaze on Harley, words implying she knew more than she was letting on.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harley quirked an eyebrow at MJ.
“In due time, Keener. In due time."
Peter returned only ten minutes later, setting a new personal record (not that Peter or Harley were keeping track). He held up a brown paper bag triumphantly as he rejoined the trio at the picnic table. Peter accidentally smudged some grease stains on his sweater from holding the bag too close, but the trio was content to let him find that out himself.
“One Reuben for Harley Keener,” Peter said, turning his wide smile to Harley as he placed a giant sandwich in front of him, a second one before himself.
“Where’s mine?” Ned asked. Peter ignored him.
“Peter, where did you get this?” Harley asked, still in disbelief but trying to play it off.
“Deli down the street, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Peter’s New York accent slipped out with his breathless response, slightly caught off guard. He hoped he looked like the epitome of cool, but Peter’s heart was about to spring from his chest and he was sweating profusely underneath his suit and sweater. To hide his nervousness, Peter started shoveling his sandwich down his throat. Apparently, he was attempting to set a world record for fastest eater.
The deli, contrary to what he told Harley, was not right down the street but actually in East Village. MJ recognized the name on the bag (Katz’s Delicatessen) and glared at Peter. She picked up her phone and started texting:
MJ: R u gonna tell him?
Peter: Eventually? Idk
MJ: This is stupid just tell Keener. He’ll like u 3000x more
Peter rolled his eyes as he caught MJ’s glare over her phone. Suddenly, everyone’s gaze shifted to Harley as he let out a scandalous moan. MJ’s texts were long forgotten and Peter’s brain short circuited.
“Guys, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Oh my god.” Harley’s mouth was full as he spoke, garbling his words, but the joy in his eyes as he threw his head back was unmistakable. Through the Reuben, Harley said, “You should pick the place more often, Peter.”
“Ew, can you stop being gross?” MJ asked as she put her phone back in her bag in favor of her novel.
No one noticed when Peter started chugging water like his life depended on it, throat suddenly very dry. He also chose not to comment on Harley’s horrible manners this time.
--
By the time Christmas rolled around the two boys fell into a routine. Harley would ask for something to eat and Peter would disappear for a short period of time. After Peter’s fifth outing, Harley stopped questioning Peter’s methods, opting to simply accept the food with an idiotic smile plastered on his face (Tony often told Harley that he was the living embodiment of the heart eyes emoji).
Speaking of Tony, he was letting Harley and Peter spend the lull between Christmas and New Year’s at the Tower so they could work on their projects while reaping the full benefits of Stark Tower. This is how the teens found themselves sprawled across a couch fit for ten people with The Princess Bride playing on Tony’s obnoxious 90-inch screen TV.
The movie was Harley’s pick. After he found out Tony’s new nickname for both him (Princess Buttercup) and Peter (Westley when Peter, The Dread Pirate Roberts while Spider-Man), Harley was adamant they watch the movie together. It wasn’t Peter’s fault he’d never seen The Princess Bride (“That movie came out in the 80’s, Mr. Stark. The eighties”), but halfway through the movie Peter had to admit he was quite enjoying it.
Peter could relate to Westley too, though he had the opposite problem that Westley had. While Peter was trying desperately to hide his superhero persona from his love interest, Westley was trying to hide his true self.
Huh, Harley was a lot like Princess Buttercup, now that Peter thought about it. Fearless, beautiful, stubborn and dramatic, all wrapped up into one person.
Peter spared a glance over at the other boy and found him staring right back. In the background he could vaguely hear Buttercup and Westley arguing over him being Dread Pirate Roberts (oof, too close to home). None of it mattered though as all of Peter’s enhanced senses started narrowing down to one thing: Harley.
“Hey, Peter,” the older boy said slowly, shifting closer to him on the couch.
Peter unconsciously licked his lips and stared at Harley’s mouth.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting for a while and I think only you can give it to me.”
Peter leaned in closer, the movie now completely abandoned. “Oh yeah, what’s that, Harley?” Peter cocked his head to the side.
“I want you to kiss me.” Harley said as his eyes flickered down to Peter’s lips, their faces now only inches apart.
Peter closed the rest of the distance with a smile.
“As you wish.”
--
Everyone knew something had to give eventually.
It was the last week of winter vacation before Midtown started classes again and Peter had successfully made 2.5 months’ worth of food runs for Harley without the other teen catching on to his superhero persona.
Another late night in the lab found the duo working on one of Harley’s projects: he wanted to improve Rhodey’s leg braces as a (very) late Christmas present. Tony initially brushed off Harley’s request, telling the teen ‘good luck’ before patting him on the back and walking away. Sure, Tony had been drinking some of the spiked egg-nog that night, but it didn’t change the slight sting Harley’s ego felt. Only after Harley showed Tony his designs and recruited Peter as an extra set of hands did Tony finally take him seriously.
Now, it was twenty hours later and Harley was getting frustrated. This was his chance to show Tony that he could do something extraordinary, to prove that he could match the genius Tony Stark was at 18.
“Harley, you haven’t eaten or slept since yesterday, please let me get you something,” Peter begged the older teen. He had stayed with Harley through most of the night, but early morning patrol meant he had to leave.
Harley grunted from behind the goggles as he focused on the parts in front of him.
Peter was still in the suit underneath his sweatpants and hoodie since he had just gotten back. “Listen, I’m going to go get lunch for both of us. I’ll be back in 10 and you’re going to eat with me.”
The only acknowledgement Harley gave him was a nod of his head.
Harley decided to shower as soon as Peter left. He knew rationally that Peter was right, overworking his brain and body wasn’t going to make him a better engineer, but he was far too stubborn to admit it. Harley resigned himself to spending the rest of the day anywhere but the lab and headed towards the kitchen to tell Peter.
Only, Peter wasn’t there.
Harley looked between his wrist watch and Stark phone to make sure the time was right. Thirty minutes. It had been thirty minutes since Peter left and he still wasn’t back. From what Tony had told Harley about Peter before he moved to New York, “trouble” and “Peter Parker” were almost synonymous. Harley knew in his gut something was wrong.
“FRIDAY, get me Peter Parker’s location.” Harley told the AI as he sped-walked back towards the lab.
“Mr. Parker is currently inside a bodega at the intersection of 3rd Ave and East 36th Street.” FRIDAY’s heavily accented response filled the lab.
“What the hell, Peter,” Harley muttered to himself as he fastened a silver cuff to his right wrist before taking off towards the elevators.
--
On the 93rd floor from his overly large office, Tony Stark watched the robbery Spider-Man was rapidly foiling through his hidden suit camera. Peter had thwarted plenty of robberies alone so Tony didn’t feel the need to get a suit ready for an assist.
“Boss, Harley is going after Peter.” FRIDAY’s voice broke through Tony’s train of thought.
“Bring him up on the screen.” Tony told his AI.
A second screen appeared alongside the first, showing Harley grabbing a prototype cuff from the lab bench before dashing towards the elevators. The corner of Tony’s mouth pulled down into a frown. “He doesn’t even know if that’s gonna work,” he muttered to an empty room. He was definitely impressed though. If anyone could be the next Iron Man, it was Harley Keener. The kid had balls, Tony had to admit.
“Boss, instructions?” FRIDAY asked, waiting for Tony to tell her what to do.
“Eh, they’ll be fine. Close the second screen, please.” FRIDAY complied. “Maximize the first screen. Dim the lights too.” Peter in the bodega filled his vision again as the office lights dimmed. Tony might have looked the perfect picture of serenity, but the man was definitely more worried than before.
If Tony reached for the Mark XC cuffs, no one had to know.
--
Harley made it to the address FRIDAY had given him in record time, thankful for the three years of track and field at Rose Hill High School. He strode through the Bodega’s doors without really taking stock of what was happening inside before he had arrived.
Perched on the grimy check-out counter was none other than Spider-Man. He was holding his hands out in defense, facing off against two armed, masked men standing ten feet away. Snacks littered the floor and Harley briefly saw two people hiding behind a chip display two aisles over. He was also pretty sure a terrified cashier was behind the counter Peter was currently using as a perch.
“Ey, ey, ey, ey, ey!” Spider-Man’s voice rang through the air, “What do you think you’re doing pal, you gotta go!” His arm frantically gestured for Harley to turn around and run the other way.
When all sets of eyes turned to Harley, he knew he was fucked. Harley discreetly tapped the center of his wrist cuff twice, comforted in the feel of metal enveloping his hand. “Uhhhhh, sorry to interrupt whatever this,” Harley used his left hand to gesture around himself lamely, “is. I’m just looking for my friend Peter. I think he’s here?”
The sentence ended more like a question than a statement and Harley internally cringed. Not the time to sound lame, Keener. Out of the corner of his eye Harley swore he saw Spider-Man flinch when he said ‘Peter,’ but in the blink of an eye it was gone.
“Yeah kid, listen to the web-head and scram. Unless you wanna leave with a few souvenirs.” The gunman to Harley’s immediate right said, using his gun to imply the meaning of his words menacingly.
Harley rolled his eyes. Spider-Man was now pointedly ignoring Harley in favor of trying to get the gunmen to focus on him instead. Valiant effort, but Harley really wanted to find Peter so this dog and pony show needed to wrap up. While both gunmen were properly distracted bantering with Spider-Man (why do all heroes and villains monologue for so long, geez guys) Harley set his blasters to stun and raised his right arm, a prototype glove encasing it. Right now it had enough charge for 2-3 blasts, and if the gunmen were as stupid as they looked, it was all Harley needed.
Out of everyone in the bodega, Spider-Man was the most taken aback by the subsequent turn of events as Harley subdued both men in seconds. The sound of police sirens faintly peppered the background and the two civilians in the store sprinted for the front door. The cashier remained on the floor, exhaling a sigh of relief as he waited for the police.
Harley turned to Spider-Man who was now sitting lazily on the check-out counter. “Hey, have you by chance seen Peter? The other guy that works on your Spider-Man suit? About yay tall,” Harley gestured to a few inches below his own height, “curly hair, brown eyes, adorable, probably looked lost…” Harley trailed off and looked at the hero expectantly.
The eyes on Spider-Man’s suit simply blinked in response as the hero cocked his head to the side.
“Whatever man, hope you like your new web shooters.” Harley said, annoyed at the lack of response. He turned to leave the bodega while he still could before the cops arrived. He was no stranger to how this part of the scenario played out.
A hand reached out and an iron grip encased Harley’s left arm. He gasped in surprise as he turned to find Spider-Man, suddenly inches away from him. Peter knew that Tony was still watching through his suit cam, but he didn’t care anymore (hopefully he turned the footage off after Harley took down the men).
“Peter’s fine.” The voice behind the mask came out somewhat strained. A little familiar too, huh. Why did Harley know that voice?
“And how can you possibly know that?” Harley asked, patience wearing thin. He really needed to find Peter.
“Meet me in the alley across the street.”
“That’s awfully dangerous.” Harley retorted, fixing Spider-Man with a gaze that seemed eerily familiar to one of Tony's.
Peter snorted, “Says the guy who just barged into an armed robbery.”
“Fair enough.”
Spider-Man beat him to the alley, of course. It’s like the guy moved at the speed of light, and last Harley checked the suit wasn’t that good. “Listen, I appreciate you taking time out of your day for…whatever this is…but I need to get back to the tower to see if Peter made it back."
Harley turned to leave and Peter was getting frustrated. This is not how he wanted to tell Harley, hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to tell him. However, Peter sensed the now or never-ness of the situation and acted.
“Harley, wait!” Peter ripped off his mask, not even checking to see if the coast was clear.
Harley gaped at Peter. After a moment spent regaining his composure he finally spoke, “THAT’S how you’ve been getting the food so fast. Oh my god,” Harley threw up his hands in an ‘a-ha!’ gesture, “I’m so stupid. This entire time I thought you were borrowing Spider-Man’s tech, but you are Spider-Man.”
It was Peter’s turn to gape. “After what we just went through, that’s all you got?”
Harley rolled his eyes as he walked closer to Peter. “If aliens, gods, superheroes and time travel all exist in the same reality, why can’t Peter Parker be Spider-Man?”
Peter shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “You got a point.”
Harley closed the distance and entered Peter’s personal space. “Why didn’t you just tell me, asshole?”
“Because I’m an idiot.” Peter moved his arms to lightly wrap around Harley’s waist.
Harley smiled, “Obviously.” His arms came up to rest at the nape of Peter’s neck, left hand idly playing with the curls he found there.
As Peter was about to close the distance between them, the rumbling of Harley’s stomach startled them.
“You never did bring me lunch.” Harley pouted.
Peter’s mouth crept into a knowing smirk, “I think I know a place or two.” He briefly let go of Harley to put his mask back on before his left arm found Harley’s waist again, wrapping around the older boy tighter this time.
“Italian?” Harley asked as he locked his arms around Spider-Man’s neck.
Peter shot a web off, fluid adhering to the building next to the pair as he set course for Little Italy.
“As you wish.”